


Dragon, Hunted

by james



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Modern AU - Witchers, dragon!Jaskier, extremely mild angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27730009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: The gang has lived until modern times, where Witchers still hunt monsters and a certain dragon gets into trouble, out of which his husband does not help him. At all.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 24
Kudos: 168
Collections: fandomtrees





	Dragon, Hunted

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShippersList](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippersList/gifts).



Geralt felt his phone vibrate against his leg and sighed. He had no idea how Yennefer managed to make his text notifications sound and feel like _her,_ but she had managed it. He thought about ignoring it, but he knew from experience it would only get worse. Eventually she'd override the silenced phone and make it start chirping at him out loud.

His brothers were all on hunts, mostly out of the area, and Jaskier had gone over to Yen and Triss' ranch to do some “creative work” which meant he wanted to sit and pester the ladies until he felt like his hoard was intact.

He mostly did fine with the Witchers being gone for long stretches at a time – though he pouted something fierce if Ciri didn't facetime him at least once a week. As long as everyone came back for the winter and let him cuddle them to his dragon heart's content, he didn't grumble too much over the spring and summer. Usually by mid-Autumn the grumbling would start and Geralt would have to put up with a very clingy dragon until the whole family came home.

Yennefer and Triss were, he insisted, only tangentially part of his family-hoard, but only because either of them would pull his toenails off if he tried to lay full claim to them.

Geralt wasn't ever allowed out of Jaskier's sight for more than a full day, but he didn't really mind. He might have a bit, at first, but over the centuries he'd got used to it. (Lambert claimed that Geralt was the one who got antsy if they were separated, but he was obviously wrong. It wasn't like Lambert had much room to talk, the way he and Aiden lived in one another's pockets. The others were careful about teasing them, however, since Lambert had still not really got over Aiden's long-ago death and subsequent resurrection.)

Jaskier would be back tonight before supper, and Geralt was taking advantage of being home alone to get some repairs done. They'd bought the land the current house was on a couple centuries ago, after the old keep had finally gotten too treacherous even for Witchers and dragons. The surviving Witchers still held the deed to the mountain old Morhen's ruins were on, and they'd pooled together to buy several thousand acres spilling out from the foot of the old trail. A few recovered siren treasures as well as a hefty donation from a dragon who said gold and jewels weren't what he wanted anyway, and they now owned a sizable chunk of the area at the base of the mountain. 

They left most of it wild, both to keep others out and to keep a handful of non-human refugees safely in. Eskel had a small hut near the eastern edge and Lambert and Aiden kept a cottage near the old trailhead to the keep, so they could wander up on occasion to see what useful things they could still scavenge. Vesemir had retired to the coast decades ago, but still came back for a month or two around Midwinter.

The main house was where Jaskier and Geralt lived, though there were rooms for everyone, and a barn large enough to house a dozen horses. Jaskier teased Geralt about retiring to raise and train the beasts, someday. From time to time he did think about it, but the Continent still had plenty of monsters to hunt. Not nearly as many as in the past; modern technology meant that humans and elves and dwarves could defend themselves safely from a distance, or use electrified fences to keep predators off settled land.

But Witchers still were needed for the worst of the monsters, so each year they left home to walk the Path, driving trucks and using firearms as often as their swords, and texting one another. Aiden kept an Instagram account where he posted pictures and videos from their hunts, which was popular in a way Geralt didn't understand. But it, along with Jaskier's history podcasts and, of course, his music, meant that Witchers were popular in ways they'd never been before in their lives.

There was even a documentary director who sometimes pestered them to allow him to film them, which all of them had said no to, several times over. Geralt did still get the occasional email about it, but he'd taken to deleting them unread.

He sighed, and looked at his phone as it vibrated again.

_Come get your bard._

Geralt rubbed his face. He'd been getting so much work done without Jaskier around to distract him with new recipes he'd tried out, or wanting to discuss new podcast topics. Not that he minded the cooking, or talking out ideas with Jaskier, but he always seemed to work _faster_ when Jaskier was gone.

 _What's he done?_ Geralt typed.

_He's upsetting the chickens._

Geralt blinked. He stopped himself from asking any questions, because honestly he didn't want to know. He wanted to tell Yen she could deal with Jaskier herself, but if she wanted to, she wouldn't be texting him.

He sighed again. _Fine. Make me a portal._

He'd no sooner hit 'send' than a portal appeared in front of him. He took a deep breath and thought briefly about running the other way. He'd tried it, once, and Yennefer had just opened a second portal that he'd accidentally run into.

He stepped through and found himself in the side yard of their house, Triss and Yennefer standing together watching Jaskier, who perched on top of the barn. The tip of his tail was twitching, and down on the ground a dozen chickens were gathered, screaming at him and flapping their wings.

He sighed even more deeply. He'd been having a nice, quiet day. “Jaskier.”

 _I didn't do anything,_ came a voice, soft in his head. _I didn't even eat one._

“They're eating chickens,” Triss said mildly, walking over to Geralt. “We keep telling you it's fine if you do.”

Jaskier's tail continued to flip back and forth as though he were nervous. The chickens on the ground were loudly furious.

Geralt raised an eyebrow at Triss, who smiled. “He was sniffing out eggs. Some of the girls like hiding their clutches instead of laying them in the coop where they're supposed to. We have all the chicks we need for now, so we asked him to make himself useful while he loafed about pretending he doesn't think of us as his.”

 _I don't--_ Jaskier began, then he shrank back a little as one of the chickens made it to the top of the fence. _Geralt, are you going to help or are you going to just stand there?_

“Fine, fine, keep your-- well, your pants aren't on. Hmm.” Geralt had started to take a step forward to shoo the chickens away, but then he stopped. He pulled out his phone and held it out to Triss. “Could you show me how to record video?”

Aiden _had_ been pestering the rest of them for footage, claiming the fans wanted to see more than just him and Lambert all the time. Eskel had started sending a few pictures of himself, posing with dead monsters, but so far Geralt had refused. Even when Ciri had suggested she travel with them a bit and do the filming for him, Geralt had refused, mostly just on principle. He was still annoyed at being forced into carrying a cell phone in the first place, even if it did mean Ciri actually contacted him more often, texting and sending pictures and things she and Jaskier said were hilarious memes.

Triss took his phone and...did things, poking at the screen, then she tapped a red dot and handed it back. “Keep it aimed this way,” she said.

_Geralt, my love, if you--_

Geralt cleared his throat. “Here we have a red dragon, currently treed by a flock of very dangerous, vicious creatures known as chickens. The dragon is obviously in a great deal of danger, as you can see by the way he's cowering on this barn -- which, by the way, he is going to be repairing if he tears any holes in the roof.”

Jaskier opened his mouth and huffed in a very obvious 'pre-fire' gesture.

“You may be wondering why the dragon doesn't just fly away,” Geralt said, mildly. “If you take a look at his left wing,” Geralt focused the phone on the wing, where a large, jagged mark could be seen – the still-healing wound where his wing had been torn open. “This idiot dragon is injured and currently can't fly, due to an unfortunate incident involving alcohol, pitchforks, and a sheep-joust.”

Eskel had been just as much at fault, and had apologised profusely for days before Geralt had kicked him out, just to get some peace and quiet. Geralt had arrived just after the incident had occurred, to see Eskel leaning on a pitchfork, sheep baaing in confusion, and Jaskier laying on the ground with one wing crumpled beneath him. The fact Yennefer and Triss had been holding themselves up laughing hysterically had calmed his panic initially, as had knowing that dragons were a lot harder to seriously damage than even Witchers, sometimes. Jaskier would heal, but in the meanwhile he was stuck in his dragon form.

It hadn't saved either of them from Geralt's wrath when he'd found out how the injury happened, even though Triss assured them both his wing would be fine in another week or two. Jaskier had slept for a couple of days – mostly due to his hangover -- then discovered quickly that he couldn't do much of _anything._ He was unable to record his podcasts or play any of his instruments, could compose but not write anything down. He'd taken to pacing the open fields around their house, scaring the birds and rabbits and trying to scare the sheep who were used to him and weren't smart enough to realise he could eat them if he wanted. Geralt did what he could, like turning on the radio, or setting Jaskier's phone up with audiobooks. 

Jaskier had asked him to put on a sexy show for him, but when he'd tried, the sheep had gathered to see what was going on, which had had an extremely dampening effect on Geralt's dick, and willingness.

Visiting Triss and Yennefer had been in part about allaying some of Jaskier's boredom, but now, Geralt supposed, he would have to take his bard home and find something else for him to do. 

First he was sending the video to Aiden with his full permission to use it however he wished.

Jaskier huffed a bit of smoke at him.

“Can you get down without destroying their barn?” Geralt asked.

 _What about the chickens?_ Jaskier asked, distrustfully.

“Hmm.” Geralt considered them for a moment. “You're right. Better stay up there where it's safe.” He turned and took Triss' arm, and headed towards the house. 

_You're a horrible husband,_ followed him. 

Geralt went inside with Triss, wondering if he would have time for a cup of tea before Jaskier finally crawled down. The chickens couldn't get through his scales, probably, and even if they did they probably wouldn't bring him down and eat him.

 _I can hear you,_ Jaskier said. _I don't love you, anymore._

Geralt just hmmed at him, and sat down at the kitchen table. He was actually halfway through his cup of tea and a plate of cookies when a large eyeball appeared at the window.

“Please take him home,” Yennefer said. “Before I shrink him down to the size of a housecat, and give him back to the chickens.”

“You can do that?” Geralt perked up.

_Geralt!_

Yennefer tilted her head at him. Geralt shrugged. “He could get inside the house, at least. He might not be so bored if his feet were small enough to handle things.”

 _Ooh! I could use my keyboard,_ Jaskier shouted. _Please Yen please please, shrink me down!_

“Huh,” Yennefer said, and fell silent for awhile. Then she turned and looked at Jaskier through the window. She raised her hand and started reciting something in a language Geralt didn't know, then a moment later Jaskier's head vanished.

The door banged open, and a tiny dragon came racing in, scrambling onto Geralt's lap. They could hear angry chickens on the porch.

Jaskier settled himself in the safety of Geralt's lap, sticking his nose under Geralt's arm, and laid quietly while Geralt finished his tea, letting Geralt feed him kolaczki.


End file.
